What can I do?
by Angel-Castiel
Summary: When you are in a relationship with Sherlock Holmes the normal rules don't apply. John tries to figure out what he is allowed to do and gets his questions answered.  John/Sherlock. Series of One-shots on a timeline
1. Can I bother him when he is mooching?

(John's point of view) 

With the case of the missing signet ring solved Sherlock had reverted back to his mooching state. Am I allowed to bother him? I mean we are together now so surely what he said when we met doesn't count... What if he rejects me? Damn! Why are relationships so complicated? Well this is Sherlock after all.

I know I shouldn't bother him while he is on a case, he wouldn't bother me at the clinic. Ha, what am I talking about of course he would. But if I can't kiss him then or when he is like this then when can I? He doesn't have a middle ground.

Jeez John you're a soldier stand up for yourself, Sherlock can't make all the decisions, he has to compromise. But do I want a relationship that is built on compromise and not that he wants to do these things? I at least know that I want, no need him.

How can he lay there on the sofa in his pyjamas and striped blue dressing gown in a toddleresque sulk yet still look unbelievably handsome, with his curls somehow even wilder? He must know what he is doing to me, this inner conflict of what I am allowed to do in my own home to my own boyfriend.

I know what I want to do. I want to lie down against his back and snake my arms around him so I can feel his heartbeat, which for those moments at least is beating for me, for us. The song 'Chasing Cars' by Snow Patrol came to mind as we could 'forget the world' and the wait for cases or ideas to manifest themselves as I hold him in my arms. Wow I am cheesy.

If only he knew what I was thinking so he could put my mind at rest. He does a brilliant job of it normally but maybe it is selective mind reading or that he is choosing not to talk about it as it could be awkward.

Well one thing is for sure he isn't going to become another Sarah; the idea of a partner without intimacy. There is definitely no way I am going to let this become like that train wreck, he means too much to me.

He must have noticed that I have been staring at him from my armchair for ten minutes by now. The lack of me typing up my blog post should have registered with him straight away. Oh god, he's ignoring me. What have I done? I haven't told anyone about us, I want to wait until he is ready for people to know. Maybe that IS the problem. Does he think I am ashamed to be with him? Ashamed to be with amazing Sherlock, the only consulting detective in the world. I always thought he would be ashamed of me, boring John, reliable but nothing special.

I do have a lot to live up to. He did say he was married to his work so am I meant to somehow be more interesting to him than a new serial killer or Moriarty's games?

Where is my Sherlock? Blunt Sherlock. Never scared to speak his mind Sherlock. Just lying there with his back to me because the patterns of the sofa are obviously more interesting.

"John will you please stop worrying and get over here."

It speaks. I sighed with relief and laid next to my Sherlock, holding him to me.

"for the record John you are in no way boring. Everything you do is fascinating and I am scared that I will never be enough for you. And you can 'bother' me whenever you like just not when I am in the middle of an experiment because you are likely to get harmed."

I kissed the back of his long pale neck, cherishing the way it made him gasp at sensation. One worry down about a million left to solve.


	2. Who can I tell?

We have been together nearly a month now and nobody knows. Well, Mrs. Hudson does obviously but she knew before us that we would be together. I don't know if I am allowed if he hasn't told people. Unless he is waiting for me to tell people.

If this was anyone but Sherlock I would have told people strait away that I was with someone, especially with someone who looks as amazing as he does. But who can I tell? He is my best friend which leaves Mike, people at the clinic, people at Scotland yard and the brother.

As nice as Mycroft was to get us the hospital care we got after the incident at the pool, he still creeps me out and Sherlock loathes him. He is Sherlock's Harry. They both have habits that make them insufferable and yet be are forced to endure them when we are in the most trouble. Mycroft probably knows anyway what with his obsession of bugging the flat and stalking us. He better not have bugged the bedroom... Or the kitchen table.

There is no real reason to hide it from Scotland Yard, I mean Lestrade will be supportive as it shows Sherlock at least has human emotions but it could cause more comments from Donovan and Anderson. They already call Sherlock a freak but would they stoop low enough to be homophobic too? They can't argue that it's unprofessional of us because they have been at it for years with a Mrs. Anderson in the picture.

And my parents, when should I tell them? They accepted that I was bisexual years ago but they will want to meet him. And see the flat. How on earth can I explain heads in the fridge, pet cockroaches and rotting flesh in tubs everywhere?

Sherlock opened the door to the flat gingerly as if to access my mood. God what has he done now?

"John. I think I have done a bad thing."

I looked up at him from my armchair and saw that he looked genuinely sorry.

"What happened?"

"I punched Anderson," my jaw literally dropped and I had no idea what to say to that. He added quickly "but I had good reason and he isn't pressing charges. He called you a dog and barked at me for five minutes till I broke his nose and shouted for him to never mock my boyfriend. I am sorry if you didn't want anyone to know, it just slipped out. This is why I hate anger it stops me having control over my own brain."

"It's ok Sherlock. It's, more than ok. It's the most romantic thing anyone's ever done for me. Wow I sound like a bad movie. And I wanted to ask can I tell my parents about you? They will want to meet you but we can put it off till they are coming to see me in October. If you want to see them that is."

Wow I couldn't have sounded more awkward even if I wanted to. Man I am pathetic.

"I will meet your parents John but under no circumstances are you ever to meet my mother. I'm proud to be with you so don't take this the wrong way but I will never let you be exposed to such evil as her."

"Your mother can't be that bad Sherlock."

"Don't underestimate her. It's her fault how Mycroft and I are so I don't want her turning you."

"Nothing could ever change me. But if you don't want me to meet her I promise I won't. At least I don't have to go through that kind of stress again. My last boyfriend's parents were so scary. They glared at me every time I talked and thought it was me who turned their son 'rebel' they saw us kiss this one time and..."

"John."

"Hmm?"

"Shut up."

He guided my chin up with his forefinger, claiming my mouth with his dancing tongue. I responded at once, guiding my fingers into his hair and pulling slightly in the way that always makes him moan.

"What was that for?"

"it's not illegal to kiss my amazing doctor." there was a slight pink tinge to his usually ghost-white neck that was slowly spreading across his face.

"Is it what I was talking about? About how I kissed my ex-boyfriend?" I saw Sherlock's lip snarl upwards for a millisecond. "It is. You're jealous." I couldn't help but laugh at the fact that Sherlock could get jealous, especially at my boyfriend from ten years ago.

"I'm not jealous, you are being an idiot. I don't DO jealousy I am a sociopath remember."

"I thought sociopaths were suppost to mimic human emotions so you DO do jealousy."

"Be quiet."

With that he walked off back to whatever experiment requires a pig's head which had gripped him for the past week in between cases. I felt myself smile at the knowledge that he had defended me in such a non-Sherlock way and hope to see Anderson as soon as possible to see the damage done.


	3. Is handholding acceptable?

Those hands. Those scarred white hands with the impossibly long fingers (not that I'm complaining), just scream out for me to grab one as we walk.

Does he still count as a sociopath? Because as far as I am aware he isn't meant to be in a relationship in which he has true feelings for the other person as well. I don't even think he was truly ever one and just used it as an excuse as to why he is different to everybody else so many times that he began to believe it himself. So that means I can hold his hand right?

I am not really into over the top public displays of affection but there is just something about holding his hand that excites me, as for those minutes that our fingers are intertwined, everyone knows that he is mine. The tall, mad-haired God of a man is mine. And I am his.

A small group of twentysomething girls dressed the smallest of dresses walked towards us. One girl with blonde, long curly hair bit the side of her bottom lip and winked whilst waving in an outrageously flirting manner.

There is no way in fucking hell I am standing for that.

All thoughts of just casually grabbing his hand were lost as I placed my arm around his waist. To my surprise he in turn draped his arm over my shoulder.

The bitch, as I shall now call her, gave me a look that I had only ever seen on Veruca Salt when she didn't get her golden goose and walked past with her nose in the air.

"I didn't think of you as the jealous type." 

"I wasn't jealous I was just," marking my territory. Claiming you... "Showing her that you were already taken."

"I don't think that would bother her. Her knees are almost identical to that of Donavon's."

I couldn't help but laugh at that and he pulled me toward me to kiss my forehead. I had a stupid grin on my face all the way back to 221b, one that was very similar to the one when Charlie realised he had the whole factory to himself forever.

-Wow I seem to have gained Roald Dahl fever

And I spelt twentysomething without a hyphen because Benedict was in a show called fourtysomething-


	4. My mum is here?

This cannot be happening.

Everything was fine. Perfect even. I got home from a day of simple patients and sat down with a mug of tea and started to write my blog for the case I was calling 'The Tritovore'' whilst listening to The Queen Is Dead.

Because of this I didn't know someone else was in the building until the door was flung open and in came mum dressed as if she was expecting London to be a beach resort in Spain. I haven't seen her in years (entirely her fault) and she turns up unannounced shouting "surprise" when the flat is looking strangely like a meth lab due to Sherlock's latest experiment.

"Umm hi mum," I hugged her, "what are you doing here, not that you aren't welcome of course."

"Well I am back from the States for a party and I can't stay long. So how..."

She stopped talking when she heard the front door slam and someone attacking the stairs.

"John. John I just caught a serial rapist, man I wish there were more people like that in the world."

My mum couldn't have looked more shocked than if he had just announced he was a rapist.

"He just means people who are as easy to catch as him." please say she bought it.

He then strode into the room and as usual had the quick look of absorbing all the information in the room. He stopped when he saw my mum and I wondered if his gears had actually stopped. It was one of those awkward moments where two seconds seemed like hours as Sherlock's eyes narrowed as if there was an intruder in the flat and not the woman who raised me. He eventually slopped glowering and put on his emotionless face as he raised his hand.

"Sherlock Holmes. You're Mrs. Watson I presume now if you'll excuse me I must get changed out of these bloodstained clothes."

With that he practically ran upstairs to our bedroom.

"Mum please make yourself at home, I will put the kettle on and be back in a sec."

I opened the door and had to remind myself that this was not the time to get turned on even though Sherlock in just boxer shorts was purely breathtaking.

"Why does your sister hate us?"

Huh? I thought that was obvious after what happened last week. "What?"

"Come on John how else would your mother know where we live, I know you didn't tell her? And if she didn't hate us then she would have rung ahead and told us she was coming."

"Ok that doesn't matter right now but I need you to do something for me."

"Of course what is it?"

"I need you to turn of the whole deduce everything about a person's life and tell them thing you do and if she asks you a question just think about if I would say that before you do ok? Basically just think of it as a case and act or something please."

"Ok John."

I kissed his cheek and left him to get dressed. My mum was sat in his chair. Oh my god this cannot be happening, not even Mycroft dared to sit there when he broke in. Calm John, calm. The kettle was of course done so I poured three mugs of tea and handed them out as Sherlock came back downstairs. He had of course taken my armchair so I drew one from the table and sat down waiting for whatever reason my mum had decided to finally grace me with her presence.

"What are your intentions with my son?"

Oh god no. When Harry asked him something along those lines he said "To fuck him senseless so he forgets about all of his past girlfriends and boyfriends, what are yours with the married woman from next door?". Let's just say that I haven't spoken to her since and there is still the faint mark where the bottle had hit Sherlock's arm.

Instead he adopted a grin and said, "I wish only to make him happy I assure you." Thank whatever God is up there.

"Ok but where do you see this relationship going, I don't want you to be leading him on."

Scratch that there is no god. "Mum!"

"it's alright John," he smiled at me, "I am in no way leading him on Mrs Watson, he is the love of my life," I held my breath, taken aback by his words. "The only person I have ever loved." he looked me up and down with a slight frown that was gone as quickly as it came.

After those questions my mum seemed to relax and we all talked and laughed and it was as if they had known each other for decades. It was odd Sherlock acting, dare I say it, normal. Like he did not have a brain that was constantly deducing and compiling evidence.

At eight o'clock it was time for my mum to leave. And probably not see me again for another 10 years while she was off in America pretending that she didn't have an alcoholic daughter and a war-wounded son that she felt had always kept her back and stolen her younger years.

After showing her out and into a cab I went back into the flat sighing and threw myself onto the sofa. Sherlock turned to me after a minute of studying the ceiling.

"Are you ashamed of me John?" he looked physically hurt and I couldn't for the life of me figure out why he was saying that, I thought the night went quite well.

I sat up "Of course not Sherlock how could I ever be ashamed of you?"

"It's just that I meet your mother and you tell me not to be myself and see it as an 'act' so in what way doesn't that seem like you are embarrassed about who I am?"

"Sherlock I'm sorry I..."

"What John? Did you think that I might not be a little bit sad that the man who is supposed to my boyfriend that I love and apparently loves me wants me to put up a facade when it comes to meeting his mother?" he stood and began walking away. "I am sleeping in my old bed tonight don't follow me."

Well done John. You have just made your first mistake.

-If you know what a Tritovore is I love you.  
>And I had to include the 'The Smiths' reference since yesterday was the 25th anniversary of that album and why wouldn't John be a fan of them.-<p> 


	5. My mum is here? part 2 the morning after

I awoke feeling the same amount of guilt and dread for the future as I had the day before. How on earth was I supposed to fix things with Sherlock? It's not as if I can just pretend nothing happened. I slowly got dressed, trying to put off seeing Sherlock for as long as I could before tentatively going downstairs.

He was sat in his armchair, legs up with his arms wrapped around them and staring forward at nothing in particular. For some reason he was fully clothed with his coat and scarf on too. It looked like some sort of defence mechanism as if trying to not let me in whilst at the same time showing me what I had done to him. Oh god. It had taken months for me to get him to open up to me about himself and his past and that has all been reversed in one night.

Breathe John. What would you normally do?

"Morning. Do you want tea?"

"I made my own."

I had to look back over to check if I was hearing right. Sure enough there was a steaming mug of what slightly resembled tea but with a slightly green tinge. In my two years of living with Sherlock I have never seen him so much as touch a tea bag except when he dipped one in a vial of blood to check the dispersion rate. And now I think about it, where the hell are his experiments?

Yesterday the kitchen was a steaming lab with a scattering of Petri dishes across the table and on top of the fridge. Surely not... He hasn't...

"Sherlock where are your experiments?"

"I saw the way you kept looking at them yesterday when your mother was here and wishing they weren't there cluttering up the place so I got rid of them. I also did some research and it turns out it's not 'normal' for people do experiment in the kitchen unless it's to try and make the perfect meal."

I walked towards him till I was stood a meter away and his line of sight was at my stomach.

"Since when did you care about what's normal? I thought that normal equals boring in your head."

"It does but evidently you want me to be normal so I am trying to be. I also got rid of the skull and my collection of teeth."

"Sherlock I love you no matter who you are." He finally looked me in the eye as I said this and a panicked expression crossed his face, "Don't act surprised, I am sure you have known for months that I love you. I love you're experiments even though they make no sense to me and can end up nearly destroying the flat because you are so passionate about them. I love the fact that you keep a skull on the mantel piece and have weird collections because it's what makes you you. And in a strange way I love how you just speak your mind because nine times out of ten you say what everyone else is thinking. Although I do think you should try to judge how the person would react before you say stuff though."

After I had finished speaking he looked away again. What was it going to take for him to forgive me if saying 'I love you' isn't enough?

"Look, my mother is a terrible person and Harry practically raised me because she was never there. But still I feel the need to please her, to show her that I can have a normal life in spite of my shitty childhood even if I don't want one. She used to call me 'freak boy', which I guess is why I have always loathed Donovan for using that word, and I still don't understand why she did but it affected me. I asked you to act differently because of that and she can't handle people being better and smarter than her." He was still looking away so I continued, "I don't want to be like everyone else in the world, hell being like that gave me tremors and a psychosomatic limp. Being with you has been the best time in my life and I am not going to let my need to have my mother proud of me for being normal ruin what we have."

"I think I understand John. When I was a twelve I wanted to impress Mycroft with my deductions even though he was a prick. Then I realised that although Mycroft is better than me at least I wasn't acne ridden and a government slave. You don't need to impress her my dear John, she had her chance to get to know you and didn't which proves she doesn't deserve you."

My dear? I hope that means we are ok again.

"We will always be ok John." He smiled for the first time in what seemed like forever, "I love you, I think, even though you can be slightly infuriating sometimes." I let out a relieved sigh and beamed at his words. "Will you do something for me?"

"Of course."

"Will you meet Mummy?"

"I would love to."

And by love I mean will be scared shitless.


	6. A relationship with his help?

As if to intensify my feeling of dread and to show me that I won't fit in when meeting the mother of my 'Harrow' boyfriend we had a chauffeur drive us to the house. And when I say house I mean a Victorian mansion surrounded by a thirty foot fence with bodyguards at the entrance.

"Leave the bags in the car as someone will take it up to your room sirs."

We were then led inside by a butler who looked just like he had stepped out of a 50's movie. I stayed close to Sherlock as he was giving me a look as if he thought I would steal something if given the chance.

The living room (well the one that we were showed into) was three times the size of our flat and was filled tastefully with various artworks and a Greek statue stood in the corner. On one wall was a display cabinet filled with trophies. One row I could see was awards for fencing which were undoubtedly Sherlock's. Even through my shoes I could feel my feet slowly sinking into the luscious cream carpet as I walked, slightly behind my detective, towards a sofa.

As we sat Mrs. Holmes entered the room.

"Good morning, I trust you both had a pleasant journey."

She spoke in a way that even the Queen wouldn't be able to out-posh. She even dressed like royalty with, such as Sherlock, no expense spared when it came to her appearance. Her sleeved red dress was an elegant knee length, which was probably from some foreign designer which obviously cost more than I will earn in my entire life. Diamonds took pride-of-place in a necklace around her neck and dangled from her ears. Everything about her made me feel overly working-lass even though I was wearing my best suit.

Sherlock had in fact insisted that I should wear my cable knit sweater but I knew that I probably wouldn't be allowed within 100 foot of the home of a woman who had given birth to blokes who can afford to wear Spencer Hart suits and not so much as bat an eyelash when they rip and feel that they are suitable to chase suspects down dirty back alleys in. The suit I was wearing was a gift for my birthday from Mycroft that I managed to prise out of Sherlock's grasp when he tried to burn it but still the colour was starting to fade due to the vast amounts of cases that I had worn it for to fit in when undercover. When I first wore it I found a note in the inside pocket asking 'Where did he go last Wednesday?' Like hell I was gunna tell him about our date in which we travelled hours to the country for a picnic which included public indecency in a field. I kept the suit anyway. I am not stupid enough to burn expensive clothes though we did find a hidden microphone in the stitching which was removed. It was then re-hidden in Anderson's place and programmed to send to my computer so Sherlock could blackmail him after a particularly malicious verbal attack at a crime scene.

"Of course Mummy, this is my boyfriend Doctor John Watson that I told you about."

She then looked at me smiling but her eyes were like both of her sons when they were trying to see deep into my soul. Sherlock has told me that she didn't have the deductive skill that he and Mycroft possess but that didn't stop me nearly shivering under such a glare.

"Sherlock dear, please will you be so kind as to pick out a wine."

He nodded, whispered 'Good luck' in my ear and left. She could have course have just clicked her fingers and had a dozen people at her command to get the wine so there is obviously something she has to say to just me. Probably to leave her son alone so he can be with one of her rich friends children.

She sat herself down in an armchair opposite me. "It is so nice when one takes an interest in his 'help', or even starts up a relationship in an attempt to prove that love shows no boundaries."

His help? "I was his flatmate and friend before we started a relationship not his cleaner or personal servant. But yeah I suppose that we show that love is diverse" I said all this keeping my voice as level as possible. If was to convince this woman that I am good enough for Sherlock then getting angry wasn't the way to do it. But to treat me like dirt and to be sneered at when I am a proud soldier and doctor who has saved more lives than rooms in this castle of a house...

"But dear Mycroft clearly told me that Sherlock was living with a man called Mr John Watson," I felt my right eye twitch slightly as I tried to smile when she refused to address me as 'Doctor', "Who buys his shopping, cleans and follows him to crime scenes whilst typing up the case to give my son the glory he deserves. Now in my eyes that does not indicate a friendship but... Ah Shirley you have returned."

"Mummy, don't call me that. What's wrong John?"

I must not be hiding my emotions as well as I thought I was but I can never truly hide anything from him long. "Nothing I just have a bit of a headache." He sat down next to me on the sofa, draping his arm around my waist with our thighs now touching. Great thinking genius. She already hates knowing that a working-class man is dating her precious son so I am sure she will be delighted to see us touching.

The butler returned seconds later with the wine and glasses on a tray. I don't know much about wine but I knew that anything in this house must be the best. I took a sip and forced myself not to down it in one to try and escape the awkward silence.

"This house is awfully quiet you know. I miss the patter of tiny feet on the stairs which I had been expecting to hear again from delightful grandchildren." Sherlock snorted at this before she continued, "Well it seems that having grandchildren is out of the question what with Mycroft's occupation making it unlikely for him to be able to raise a child."

"I told you I was gay when I was eight so don't act like you haven't known for decades that you won't be having biological grandchildren what with Mycroft practically running the government from the age of seventeen."

"You could always use a surrogate. I will not stand here and watch this estate go to your cousins."

"If we had a surrogated child it would be John's not mine, we need more people like him in the world." I felt my cheeks slowly start to burn as he said that. I had known him for a year and a half now and he still surprised me with how much he cared about me when he said things like that, even if he was in the middle of an argument with his mum.

"You will have an heir that is Holmes blood," she stood up pointing a finger dangerously close to Sherlock's face.

"I shall do what I like. And the house won't go to the cousins anyway because half of it is mine when you croak and everything that is mine will of course go to John. No matter what Mycroft does, this will become the Holmes-Watson estate and no lawyer in his right mind would go against the wishes of a man with such high status as Daddy had so don't even try to take it away from me." If I wasn't uncomfortable before then I defiantly was now and had spent the last exchange looking at a painting of what looked like a toddler version of Sherlock as he had a mole over his left eyebrow. Current Sherlock was on his feet, shaking from head to toe staring daggers at the women who had raised him. Well watched as his nanny raised him.

He turned to me his expression back at neutral "Come on John you have met my mother now so we can leave. The bags I put in the car were empty because I knew we wouldn't be here long," he glanced at his watch though I knew that he always knew the time without it, "damn I thought it would be 2 minutes 43 seconds longer before the 'give me grandchildren' speech. Bye."

'Bye' was practically shouted in Mrs. Holmes's face before he pulled me into a kiss and led me out of the house by the hand.


	7. What are we Sherlock?

-This is set three years after John and Sherlock started a relationship-

We were lying side by side in the bed, with me on my side propping up my head with my right hand. My left was tracing figures of eight's on his chest causing hums of approval.

"What are we Sherlock?"

He looked at me as if I had gone mad, "What do you mean?"

"I mean how we describe our relationship. I was talking to Harry today because she has finally become T-total and I had no idea what to call you. I feel that saying you are my boyfriend doesn't do how I feel about you justice. We could have just met a few times and you could be my boyfriend. Saying we are dating or 'going out' sounds juvenile. And saying we are lovers sounds, well it sounds like we are doing something wrong. Like we have wives that we are cheating on and that this is just about sex. Or it sounds like something from a teen romance you know, we're grown men. Wow I'm ranting, I need to learn to quit while I'm ahead. Ignore me; I'm being stupid like you always tell me I am." I chuckle trying to keep the mood light.

Well done again John. You seem to have succeeded in showing him how pathetically needy you are for reassurance. Are your balls still there?

After an ever so slightly painful silence he finally answered, "We are partners John in every sense of the word. And stop putting yourself down you are brighter than most."

Thank god. I smiled at him, feeling my frown lines disappear, and he returned it grinning ear to ear.

"But, if you wanted to we could take this further. It would be an honour to marry you. Well, get a civil partnership"

My grin wavered slightly and I saw panic flash behind his eyes.

"Do you really want to?"

"Of course. When have you ever known me to say something I don't mean? But if you don't want to then I understand."

"There are no reasons why I wouldn't want to. You are my life. Wow that sounds soppy but it's true. It would be amazing to marry you Sherlock."

I smiled again. I don't know what I expected when I asked 'what are we?' but I'm now engaged. If you'd told me when our relationship was no longer platonic, hell if you'd told me twenty minutes ago that I would be marrying Sherlock I would have laughed. Not because I didn't want to but because of how I thought he viewed the subject. He had once said that it was a pointless expensive ritual since people still cheat and lie to their husband/wife and it's just as easy to get a divorce.

"I still do. But since you haven't murdered me yet after all the shit I put you through I doubt you ever will."

I laughed and saw his eyes sparkle. Well I had thought about killing him a few times especially when he set Mrs. Hudson's flat on fire because he wanted to know if a ring in the microwave was enough to cause a spark and of course ours was full of eyeballs. Thankfully she was on holiday for a week and Sherlock had enough contacts to rebuild the flat as it was, otherwise we would have been homeless.

"And if you murder me you will have all of my army mates after you with guns. And worse still Lestrade won't let you anywhere near a crime scene so you will go mad with boredom."

"Not if they don't find the body. And anyway with a ring on your finger it will stop so many women flirting with you."

"And the men. But it will harder for you to get what you want from Molly because she still expects you to break up with me for her if she flirts enough."

"So does that woman from Tesco who always helps you with the chip-and-pin machine. You'd think she would get the message after I had to come in and kiss you in front of her last month."

"Was that the first time you have ever been in Tesco?"

"No it was the second. The first time was just for research on the layout of chain supermarkets."

"Well it sounds like we are getting married for all the right reasons."

We said all of this slowly getting into fits of giggles.

"I don't need to put a ring in your finger to show you how much I love you John." He rolled me onto my back and kissed me, straddling my waist. "But I want to do everything I can to prove it, to you and everyone else."


	8. The best day of my life?

-I have never been to a wedding (my family is boring) but then again I have never been to a funeral either (my family is immortal) so this is all from Google, TV programmes and made up stuff.  
>This is really long compared to other chapters but I couldn't bring myself to rush the wedding-<p>

Everything was perfect. How could it not be when Sherlock can look directly into your soul and see what it desires the most.

The wedding ceremony and reception was to be held at the Holmes manor. I had been wary at first knowing how out of place I felt there but when I was showed the halls I agreed that the Holmes tradition should be followed.

The hall for exchanging vows and rings was the size of any decent church. The wall me and Sherlock would stand next to was totally glass looking out to the spectacular grounds. A raised platform had been set up as well as plinths to hold the rings. There wasn't any over the top flower arrangements or any flowers at all for that matter which was a godsend.

My best man was well a woman. I'd asked Harry because we had become closer after she had given up the drink and I wanted her involved in some way. And since there were no bridesmaids I chose her to be my best-woman. Sherlock on the other hand took longer to choose. I had to tell him that I couldn't be the best man and marry him so after much deliberation he had chosen Lestrade. When asked he laughed in Sherlock's face but accepted as soon as he realised we were serious.

Rows of chairs covered in red velvet had been set out leaving an aisle through the middle.

My side of the room contained my army buddies and their partners. Over the last few years they had started to return to the UK injured or just needing a change. There was a reunion last year to which I decided it would be a good idea to bring Sherlock. Don't ask what happened. Really, don't ask. Nevertheless we still met up afterwards and we can joke about it. My mum isn't here, not that I care either way. Mycroft had tracked down her address but no reply came to the invitation.

Sherlock's mother was there however on his side. This was after all her house. I had met her a few times after the whole 'give me an heir' fiasco and she was now at least civil. Mycroft was next to her as well as his assistant whose real name I still didn't know. I have got to say that if she takes out her phone I will destroy it; her thumbs were already subconsciously fidgeting. There was also his extended family that I had never seen before and a few of Sherlock's old clients who had stayed in touch. Molly was sat with her new boyfriend, who after a background check was undoubtedly not any kind of criminal. Mrs Hudson took pride of place at the front row of Sherlock's side next to her man-friend Arthur.

Anderson and Donovan thankfully hadn't shown up to gatecrash (yet) but Lestrade had told them that if they did they would never work the same case as Sherlock again. They knew that they would always come second to the consulting detective and his cases always gained the most publicity and praise for Scotland Yard so if they wanted a promotion they would be wise to stay away.

We decided that we should walk down the aisle with our best man/woman separately towards where the man who was performing the ceremony. Sherlock of course went first as this was his estate so the first time I would see him since yesterday would be when I walked down the aisle. Harry and Lestrade thought it would be a good idea to follow tradition so we didn't see each other on the morning of our union. I had heard that Sherlock had to be supervised by ten policemen because he kept trying to escape so he could see me.

"It's time."

Oh god this is really happening. I am going to marry the great Sherlock Holmes.

"Deep breaths. Come on."

Harry and I stepped into the hall and there he was. My man. My future. My love.

I can't remember walking but I was suddenly by his side.

I thought it would be impossible for him too look any better than he normally does in his expensive suits but how wrong I was. His tuxedo was the traditional black but his shirt was a slightly deeper purple than the colour of my favourite shirt of his with a tie of the same colour. I was also wearing a black tuxedo but with a red shirt and tie. His face was somehow even more angelic and his eyes a brighter green as they bore into mine. Those impossible cheekbones were more mesmerising than usual and I didn't know if I was going to be able to speak.

The man started speaking but I had no idea what he was saying. All I was focusing on was Sherlock. Our eyes were locked as we uttered a silent conversation that spoke our true feelings. His head suddenly tilted slightly and I realised it was time for the vows.

I had asked Sherlock if we could write out own vows which he agreed to as long as he didn't have to make a speech. I laughed at this though I knew that like me he wanted our union to be unique which meant that just repeating generic words wouldn't be enough.

"John Watson I love you. I denied it for so long that I almost believed it. But then at 9:26 21st June three years ago you kissed me. I knew from that day that all I wanted, all I needed was you.

I always thought of myself as a brain and everything else was just transport before you. But you make me more. Make me want to be more.

Lestrade once said that one day I might make a good man. You Doctor John Hamish Watson make me a good man. In fact without you I am nothing.

I promise to spend the rest of my life with you, my one and only love, proving how much you mean to me. I promise to trust but never hurt you. I would promise you my heart but I can't because you are my heart. Forever."

I literally couldn't breathe. I hadn't expected so much to be honest, I mean this is Sherlock. He normally has to show his feelings and stutters after a few sentences when he speaks them. To know that all those words were just for me and that they were all true was almost too much. I promised myself I wouldn't cry. Come on John you're a soldier. All the way through his vows we hadn't broke eye contact, like he was embedding his words deep into my soul so I would never forget. Still not looking away from him I began to speak.

"The first time I met you Sherlock you blew me away. You seemed to know everything about me though there wasn't much to my life then. Little did I know that day that you would become my everything. I just hope that one day I will deserve your love because you're such an amazing and brilliant man.

I promise that I will always love only you. I promise to cherish you despite the crazy experiments that only make sense to you. I promise to always be there to save you because even geniuses need help sometimes.

I would give up anything without hesitation to be with you because you're all I need to be happy. Without you Sherlock Frederick Holmes I am just a shell of a man without a purpose. The meaning of my life is to be with you. Forever."

Sherlock smiled shyly while I was stating my vows but then beamed when I said the word 'forever'. Still looking me in the eyes he reached backwards and Lestrade put the ring in his palm.

I then raised my left hand which he took, stroking my third finger and slid on the ring. "I give you this ring as a visible symbol of my commitment to you and to show that you will be eternally mine."

His eyes twinkled slightly when he said 'mine' and again my breath hitched. Harry then gave me the other ring and I took Sherlock's hand.

"I give you this ring to be a constant symbol of my promise to be with and love you indefinitely."

We still didn't look away and I nearly jumped when I heard the words "You may now kiss."

Our eyes closed simultaneously as we stepped forward into each other's arms. I pulled away after a few seconds remembering we were in a room full of people but Sherlock, my new husband, groaned. I let out a laugh which was also a sigh of relief that I had remembered everything I wanted to say and nothing went wrong. Husband. That's going to take some getting used to.

He took my arm and led me out of the hall. I was still oblivious to everything going on around us and frankly I didn't care.

We were given a certificate to sign and I was surprised to see that my left hand was shaking. Sherlock smiled, covering it with his own and we signed together. We kissed again until someone coughed so we moved into the room we were using for the reception still hand in hand. Everyone was already there being served their food and drink.

There was no way I was going to be able to eat now and my new husband obviously was feeling the same way as he led me to an empty table on the opposite side of the room that was in shadow.

We sat next to each other embraced. "You know your vows were backwards."

Oh my god no. Something can't have been wrong. I rehearsed it so many times. "What do you mean?"

"You said you hoped to someday deserve my love but the truth is John, that you are more of a man than I could ever dream of being. It is me who should be wishing to deserve the love of such a handsome, army doctor that is as perfect as you are. You deserve so much more than me."

"Hey," I lifted his head till he was looking me straight in the eyes. "Don't talk like that Sherlock Holmes-Watson you amazing idiot. I love you. More than I could ever say so please shut up and kiss me."

He chuckled and obliged. I opened my mouth and felt his tongue stroke mine. I shivered and moaned against his lips.

"Now it's time for the newly married couple to have their first dance."

We moved to the centre of the room and I wrapped my arms around the taller man's neck. His hands clutched my sides closer to his body before embracing me fully.

Something was wrong with this picture.

I unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt "There that's better."

The first dance was to Sometimes When We Touch by Dan Hill. This was Sherlock's decision and I smiled at the chorus because it summed up how we felt before we admitted our true feelings.

And sometimes when we touch  
>The honesty's too much<br>And I have to close my eyes and hide  
>I wanna hold you till I die<br>Till we both break down and cry  
>I wanna hold you till the fear in me subsides.<p>

Sure it isn't a traditional love song that is played at weddings since it is also contained the lyrics:

At times I'd like to break you  
>And drive you to your knees<p>

But I was giggling when Sherlock said "It's how you must feel whenever I put a head in the fridge and you want me on my knees obeying your 'normal' rules."

At times I'd like to break through  
>And hold you endlessly<p>

Oh God please let this continue forever.

oOo

People kept coming over to talk to us and I could see Sherlock becoming increasingly uncomfortable. I knew that he would rather be annoying Lestrade so I kissed him and told him "You don't have to stay with me, I know you don't like most of these people."

He smiled apologetically, rubbed my ring and went to sit back in the corner. God his arse looks good in that tuxedo. His mind reading powers had obviously picked that up and he turned winking at me like he had the day we first met.

About ten minutes later I had had enough of these people and felt like I was having withdrawal symptoms from being away from Sherlock too long. He was still sat in the corner looking at me out of the corner of his eye. I had a surprise for him and stuck out my hand, "Follow me."

He raised his left eyebrow "Where are we going?"

"If you can't deduce it then I will just have to show you." he grinned and I led him out the side door. We ran up the stairs, Sherlock still not understanding what was going on. Only when we reached the top floor did he realise we were going to the balcony. Mycroft showed me where it was and I had set up my own music for us the dance to. By this time the sun was setting and the sky was a mixture of red, pink and yellow. Perfect timing.

I pressed play, letting go of Sherlock's hand for just a second. Moonlight Serenade by Glenn Miller blasted out of the speakers. I turned back "Care for a dance Mr Holmes-Watson?"

The smile he gave me nearly caused me to keel over like some fair-maiden. "Don't mind if I do Doctor Watson-Holmes."

I have no idea what dance we were doing but following Sherlock's lead we were spinning around the whole of the balcony. I curled into his arms so my back was against his chest. His left had held mine and our rings clanged which made my heard skip. For the rest of the music we just swayed and stepped around in a slow circle.

The next song was Love story (where do I begin?) by Andy Williams. I had edited it so that the S in she couldn't be heard.

That was true. There was no way I could ever explain to Sherlock how I felt about him inside. If I started to tell him how much I wanted and needed him I would never stop talking. The other meaning of that phrase was also true. I could no longer work out where I began. Sherlock was embedded in every aspect of my life and that's where I wanted him to stay.

I felt something touch my hair and looked up to see that Sherlock was crying.

"I hope you understand how much I love you Doctor Watson-Holmes."

"You know my name could just be John Holmes if you want. I have no attachment to the name Watson."

"I'd like that. But if I can't have Watson then I am changing my middle name to John."

So we both swayed in time to the music, locked in an embrace as close as humanly possible. Silent tears rolled down our faces but neither of us cared because all that mattered was two rings and our hearts beating in sync.


	9. What's the engraving?

Choosing the rings had been one of the hardest things to do. It definitely wasn't the case of seeing the perfect ones as soon as we walked into a shop as is portrayed in films and TV.

Sherlock had found rings on the internet which had a bolt on one and a screw to fit on the other and was outraged that I hated them and thought they were a stupid novelty. When he had stopped sulking (three days later) I showed him a set that I had found which were solid gold that we could engrave inside but apparently they weren't unique enough for us. Any other ones I had found apparently weren't good enough to cope with Sherlock's experiments as he said he would refuse to take his off. In the end we decided to go for platinum rings, since we only paid for the marriage ceremony and the tuxedos, which we would design and engrave for the other to be revealed on the day.

We were in a car sent by Mycroft that was driving us to the airport the day after the wedding, us having consummated the union in Sherlock's old bedroom. Well after also doing so on the balcony.

Sherlock's ring took me a long time to find. I knew he wouldn't want a complex pattern on it and I couldn't bring myself to get him one with simple stripes. After traipsing the internet for hours when he was out on a case I found a place which lets you put your fingerprint on a ring. Now if that didn't scream Sherlock Holmes then I don't know what would.

"The fingerprint from the ring finger of your left hand is genius Mr Holmes," I hope the smile that appears on my face when I hear my new name never stops.

"Wow a genius huh? I thought I was an idiot."

"Well you still are but you're my idiot. Can I take a look at the engraving now?"

"Sure." I knew he wasn't one for liking declarations of clichés so I went for:

"Property of John H. Holmes" His smile he had been wearing all morning was somehow even bigger as he read this and I let out a sigh of relief that he liked it. "It's perfect."

"I'm glad you think so. When I asked for that I got dirty looks from the couple next to me who wanted 'love you always' engraved on their rings. Anyway how long have you known what it says and looks like?"

"Who cares what the normals think and I honestly didn't know until yesterday and the engraving just now. I knew how much you wanted it to be a surprise so I refused to think about it and any signs you gave away I had to ignore. I hope you appreciate how hard that was for me." He was giving me a mock scowl now so I kissed that look off his face.

"Of course I do. I had no idea you could just switch it off. Does that mean you also don't have to say everything you deduce out loud too?"

"Ha ha." But I could see he was trying not to smile. "Look at your ring."

I took it off and stopped breathing 'You always come first'.

"I know that sometimes it seems like I am ignoring you or that I only care about what is going on with my cases so I wanted you to be able to look at this ring and know that you are the top priority in my life."

He placed it back on my finger and gently stroked it. I looked down at the outside of my ring over where Sherlock had just run his finger. Tiny diamonds were placed at what looked like random intervals but I knew that it couldn't be if he designed it. "Is that Braille?"

"Yes it says 'My John' so I guess we are both possessive."

I had no idea how to respond to that so I just rested my head on his shoulder and closed my eyes. There was something about the way he said 'My John' that made my name sound like an endearment instead of one of the most common and boring names in England.

"Oh wait I also got you this." I reached into my inside pocket and pulled out a simple chain that was also made out of platinum. "I know you will have to take the ring off for some cases so I thought that if you put it on here you will be less likely to lose it."

"People don't give you enough credit John, you have thought of everything."


	10. You expect me to go on a case?

Our honeymoon is two weeks in New Zealand. One week in the capital city Wellington and the other week in a log cabin in the South Island mountains. We had been here three days which were mostly spent at the hotel.

I was lounging in the bedroom giving Sherlock his space as he did god knows what in the other room. I seemed to have caught his habit of rubbing my ring and spinning it round my finger. If I wasn't careful he might think that the inside was getting polished as I kept removing it for some affair I was having.

My husband walked in thrusting his laptop into my face.

"John I have found the perfect case. A series of jewellery shops have been robbed three nights in a row with no known entrance or exit points, CCTV hasn't picked anything up and even with officers inside and outside the robberies still took place. We have to leave now to go to the police station so they will let us on the case."

Is he serious? "No."

"But John I haven't heard anything like it before. I mean look at these pictures they're..."

"No."

"You don't have to come I will follow the case on my own and be back soon..."

"No."

"I have worked with these police before I am sure they will let me..."

"Are you even listening to me Sherlock?"

"Of course I am. I'm just not sure why you keep refusing."

"You're not going on a case because this is our honeymoon. All I want is two weeks of your precious time for us to spend together without you gallivanting off to find a thief or me having to go to work. I know you get bored easy Sherlock which is why I have made sure we have more than enough places to visit and I thought that sometimes us being together alone would be enough. If you are so desperate to go on this case Sherlock then go ahead but don't expect me to be here when you get back, I am sure I can find a last minute flight back to London."

"John you are being unreasonable I need cases. "

"No I'm not you are. Two weeks. That is all I need. Two weeks where I know I have not all but most of your attention."

"You always have my attention but come on. 5 robberies with alarms going off simultaneously at 4:32 with no one there but police who were all strip searched immediately by the security guards."

"Well I am sure someone will figure it out soon enough and it's not as if people are going to die if it isn't solved right this instant."

"But John..."

"No buts. You're not going. When we get back to London I am sure Lestrade will have two weeks worth of cases for you to work on."

"This is only our honeymoon, we have the rest of our lives together but this is a once in a lifetime case."

"Well if you feel like that why did you even bother booking this when we could have stayed at home playing solve the mystery?"

"I don't understand why this is such a big deal."

"It's a big deal because this is supposed to be us celebrating the best day of our lives. I know you may think it's a stupid tradition but I don't. I spend all of my time accepting how you feel about birthdays, how you feel about leaving body parts everywhere and destroying my stuff, how you feel that everyone around you is an idiot not worthy of your time and that I should be grateful that you grace me with your presence. And what do I get? Nothing. You don't even think about how I may feel about anything and I tell myself that I knew what you were like before we started this but that isn't enough anymore. Relationships are about compromise. About being happy because the other person is. Not about shouting 'John' and expecting me to come running because you need to solve a case because maybe, just maybe there are things that I need too."

I was shaking from head to foot, I hadn't been this angry in a long time. I could see that Sherlock was hurt but at this moment I didn't care. Everything that had been slowly building up inside me spilled out and I had no idea where we stood now.

I moved out of the bedroom and grabbed my coat from the peg.

"Where are you going?" His voice broke half way through the question.

"For a walk I need to calm down."

"But you don't know this city, you'll get lost."

"I am sure I can find my way. I'll be back in an hour."

"John..."

I closed the door.


	11. Who is in the wrong?

-I swear that last chapter ended happier in my head but oh well

It's so easy to have people argue but when it comes to bringing them back together it takes me hours-

He doesn't understand John. He doesn't understand. Make him understand.

I couldn't even bring myself to walk down the corridor so I just stood leaning on the other side of the door. Walking normally helps me calm down but this just felt like running away. Would it really bother me that much to go on a case right now? I guess I am still brainwashed by what is considered 'normal' and 'tradition'. To be honest it would be weirder to not have a case for two weeks. A once in a lifetime case he said and I'm acting like I wouldn't have enjoyed it.

You have just denied your husband, that's right husband, the chance to do the thing he loves with the threat of going home and leaving him here if he goes on his own. I don't even know what's right anymore.

God John you're acting like you've never had a relationship before with all this worrying.

Make him understand.

"John. Come in so I can talk to you."

He's going to say I'm being pathetic. Well he would never say that to me but how can he not be thinking it.

I swiped my key card and went back inside.

He was sat on the sofa that was in the middle of the room with his head held in his hands. He looks so broken I wanted to wrap my arms around him and say everything is going to be ok. But I couldn't, not yet. It was his turn to talk.

He slightly tilted his head to the right still not looking at me and I sat next to him.

"I don't always know what you want from me John because I have never wanted so badly to please anyone in a way that didn't involve me solving some sort of crime. I also don't always see why I should follow conventions and I still didn't when you left so I called Lestrade and that friend of yours from work Jim. They both basically told me I was being a selfish prick by even considering going on a case now. Everything you said was true, I need to think about you too because you're my husband."

"Sherlock look at me." While he was talking he was still hutched over, rubbing the palms of his hands into his eyes. He still wouldn't turn his head so I gently pulled up his chin and rested my hand on his cheek.

"We should go on the case."

"What?"

"I know what I said before but we have a whole week with just us so we should do it."

"But we only have 4 days left here."

"Well it's a good job you're Sherlock Holmes then." Finally he smiled.

"Will you pass me my phone?"

"Of course where is it?"

"The bedroom."

Why wouldn't it be in a different room? I stroked my hand down his face and went to get the phone. I opened the door and stopped.

The curtains had been drawn leaving the room lit by a dozen candles. The bed was covered in the rose petals that he had laughed at a few days before, arranged to show the letters J and S. He was then behind me, arms around my waist and breathing into my ear "Lets apologise to each other properly."


	12. How does he feel about children?

I heard a knock at the door to the flat and Mrs Hudson entered carrying a tray with two mugs of what was probably tea. She only ever brought us something of her own accord if she had gossip.

"Morning Mrs Hudson." She came over to my chair where I was checking my emails and handed me a cup. She then walked to Sherlock, who was lying on the sofa in his pyjamas with his hands steepled under his chin. Despite her polite cough he ignored her so she placed his cup on the table, unfazed as always.

"Did you hear about next door? They have just adopted this baby girl and trust me she is gorgeous. I was round there this morning and she was crawling around the flat with the biggest grin I have ever seen. Poor girl is an orphan but she will be happy with the Spencer's. Have you two ever thought about adopting? It would stop you from being so bored all the time Sherlock, babies need attention."

And with that she left, not even waiting for an answer. She most likely just wanted to bring the topic up so Sherlock and I would talk about it. Ever since we told her we were a couple she and Mrs Turner have been in a competition to see who has the best tenants. I had honestly expected her to one day come in shouting "We are having a gay-off outside, come on boys."

"So what about it John?"

I laughed. "A child? In this place?"

"What's so funny about that?"

"Sherlock there are bullet holes in the wall that you refuse to get fixed, every surface has something different living on it and I don't think that we could still solve crimes together if we, well I, have to stay here to look after it."

"But isn't that what normally happens when people get married? They get pregnant or adopt so they can pass on their knowledge."

"I thought I banned the word normal."

"I just don't want you missing out."

"Just being with you is more than enough. Scoff all you want, it won't stop it being true. Anyway I am sure you deduced that I don't want kids from what was it? Oh yeah, the fact that I joined the army to 'gawk at all the men in uniform' and because I ran away to Scotland to stay with my Nanna when I thought I got a girl pregnant."

"You what?"

"Wait, you mean you don't know about that?"

"Clearly."

"Let me just savour this moment. The day I found out that you don't know a part of someone's life. Especially a person you have lived with for over four years. The man you are married to."

"Alright John, believe it or not I don't know everything about your past. But I would appreciate if you told me about this 'woman'."

"Well I was thirty-five so there is no way to excuse me running away..."

"My running away." Is he really that bothered by this? He only corrects my grammar when he is the Sherlock version of agitated.

"I was back from the army for my two weeks and I met this girl called Sophie. If you don't have a long term partner already then you tended to have quick flings, which was all she was. She knew that of course, I told her I only had two weeks and that I was staying at a hotel after I got my things from Harry's. We used protection but it obviously doesn't always work and for some reason she was convinced she was pregnant. She took a test and it was positive. Like I said I flipped and went to stay with my 95 year old Nanna. I had told Sophie about Harry and she went to see her and got my number. She said that she had taken three more tests and that she wasn't really pregnant. She also explained about how much of a bastard I was and quite rightly so."

"Let me just savour this moment. The day I found out that you, my army doctor, used to be a coward. Especially since I have lived with you for over four years. And you're the man I am married to."

"Ha ha. I still can't believe I ran. Have you ever wanted children?"

"Not really. Babies are truly vile and would prevent me from doing my work as they need constant supervision and you need to go to the clinic. Toddlers are especially stupid and the questions they ask actually make my brain hurt because there is no relevance to them. Don't even get me started on teenagers.

"Also it would stop me from being able to do this to you as often." He moved towards me and straddled my hips. I met his lips half way as he guided my chin upwards.

I am glad that he doesn't want children. Having a kid and solving cases wouldn't be appropriate especially with the amount of times I have been kidnapped. I know that if someone got our child they would be able to blackmail Sherlock into doing everything Moriarty was capable of.

-I am sorry anyone that likes the thought of them having children but I just don't see it happening.  
>And I hope 'my running away' is correct. They knew this person with amnesia was well spoken because he said 'my' instead of 'me' on Cracker so blame whoever wrote that if it's wrong–<p> 


	13. Can I ask about the drugs?

I was sat on the sofa watching TV next to Sherlock, who was traipsing the Internet looking for a case that was actually worthy of his time. My fingertips were tracing gentle patterns into his left forearm which was bare since his patch was on his right. Well his arm wasn't totally bare as small round needle marks were present all over the place; they were probably spread out to see what difference it would make to him getting high.

"Can I ask you a question about your past?"

"That depends on what it is." Well he obviously knew what I was going to ask so I guess he is daring me to actually go through with it. Or giving me a chance to not ask so I don't have to hear the answer.

"Why did you do drugs?"

He gave me one of his 'you are being thick John' looks.

"I know the effects of drugs Sherlock I am a doctor. I just wondered about how a man whose whole life has been about making deductions that no one else can see, can do something which would undoubtedly damage their brain."

"In the long term yes it would have but I honestly didn't think I would live that long so it wasn't a problem to me."

It hurt me to know that he had such feelings even if it was before I knew him. It was pointless to comment on what he was telling me because I know he thinks that the past is the past and doesn't need to be thought about unless it's relevant to a case. Or relevant to our relationship.

"Why did you need to take them?"

"I found cocaine transcendently stimulating and as you know my mind cannot take being in stagnation for long periods of time. I wasn't working when I started as the police wouldn't take me seriously because I was only fifteen and I had hardly anything else to distract me. School was boring as most of it was irrelevant to me until I went to college and university and I could choose what to study. I was told it would bring shame to the family by Mycroft which of course make me think it was an even better idea and started to take the drug when I was home from school, especially when there were gatherings in the house.

"I wouldn't say I abused the stuff because I was taking it for a legitimate reason that no one would ever understand apart from Mycroft but he was working for the government so couldn't remember what it was like to have nothing for your brain to work out."

He kept typing and was talking as if the words bored him. I felt the need to comfort him in some way but that would have just make him clench up and stop telling me about himself. I have learned that if you want Sherlock to tell you about himself it has to be done in a way that makes it seem like gathering facts and that speaker and listener have to sound detached from what is being said. If it was just questions and answers he would tell me more.

"When did you stop?"

"I purposely overdosed at the place I was living five years ago and Mycroft got doctors there fast enough that I survived it, obviously. He took that opportunity to check me into rehab, making sure I had cases to work on even though they wouldn't let me out. It was in there that I started smoking; I bribed the nurse that wasn't my brother's minion. When I got out I realised that it wasn't suitable for cases as the craving was too distracting. Patches on the other hand give the nicotine rush needed throughout the day without having to stop to smoke."

"Have you taken since then?"

"Three times, still before I knew you. I did it because I hadn't had a case for a few weeks and shooting up helped."

"Would you do it again?"

He stopped typing for a moment and looked deep in thought for a second. Resumed his work and answered slowly. "Yes."

Well at least he is being honest, that's something I suppose. I wanted to scream at him. I wanted to tell him that he is an idiot and that he needs to think about how it would make me feel. But I couldn't. I had learned from Harry that you have to understand not shout when dealing with addicts, or ex-addicts.

I counted backwards from ten holding my breath, "Well I hope you know that I will help you, as a doctor as well as a husband, if you need me to." He already knew this I know but some things just have to be said.

"Good. Um thanks."

I just hope that I would do a better job helping the man I love than I did with my sister so that he at least doesn't have to go through it on his own.

-This chapter is dull I know but I have two weeks in France where I can write stories galore but there is no Internet to upload them.-

Replies to anonymous reviews:

Lady Lola – Thank you! I don't want to have kids either and I think that families can be just as perfect without them.

Me-me – Thanks! And phew, I was expecting people to be like 'wrong!' about the 'me/me' thing

(The one with no name from chapter 5 if you are still reading) – thank you so much


	14. How do you know that?

"John will you help me? I have no idea how to put on a bowtie and I can't be bothered to find out."

He was shouting from the stairs and made his way into the living room wearing one of his expensive suits, looking like he was trying to strangle himself with his tie. I got up and unravelled it as he let out a sigh of relief.

"Why do you need this anyway? You could just use a regular tie."

"It's cool. Bowties are cool, you should know that."

"How do you?"

"Everyone does."

"But you're not everyone Sherlock. You don't even know who the prime minister is."

"That's what Google is for. If I need to know I use my phone and delete it afterwards."

"Fair enough but still, why do you keep the phrase 'bowties are cool'? And now I think about it you quote children's rhymes, 'Houston we have a problem' and on one immensely embarrassing case you said "nobody puts my baby in a corner" in a frighteningly good Swayze impression to Anderson when he wanted me to move so I wouldn't disrupt his evidence."

"Well it's true he has no right to tell you to do anything. Besides he is the one that destroys evidence, you aren't that stupid."

"Thanks, I think. And you still haven't answered my question."

"I keep certain phrases as a way to banter with people for our cases. You say things to them like 'run Forest run!' and they laugh and talk about it with little input from me. This helps them relax so they tell me more information and are less likely to notice me stealing from them or blame me for it."

"And you also tickle them?"

"What?"

"'Round and round the garden' ends with 'tickle you under there'."

"Mummy used to do it to me before I went to sleep."

"Were you ticklish back then?"

"No but I would laugh anyway because it made Mycroft jealous that I was getting more attention than him as he could hear through the bedroom walls."

It's hard to picture him as a child. Or that he even remembers it. I had thought that a man like Sherlock would have deleted memories from his childhood to make room for everything else he needed.

"Most of it is gone but I keep those that show me beating Mycroft, humiliating him, hurting him and so on."

"Of course you do. I bet you could tell me the first time you ever did anything bad to him. "

"I was three months old and he had been trusted to push my pram as he went for a walk in the grounds. He noticed that I had done my business so he decided to change my nappy to try and get in Mother's good book. As soon as he laid me on the ground and took it off however, I peed in his face."

-I have always wondered how Sherlock knew about the whole Huston we have a problem phrase to say Huston we have a mistake but doesn't know the Earth goes round the sun. Also the whole 'round and round the garden like a teddy bear' rhyme so I decided to write this-


	15. Do we use protection?

"Happy Birthday Johnny."

I stood up from the table to hug Harry. We were sat outside a café five minutes away from the flat with mugs of tea. Sherlock was leaning against the wall looking like he wanted to sink through it. He hated her because he thought she was just going to hurt me over and over again. It was probably true; she had had many relapses back to drinking over the past few months alone and was occasionally violent if I tried to help.

"Here." She pulled a gift out of her bag that was wrapped in Christmas paper. "Sorry about the wrapping I only had that in the house." I slowly started to unravel the tape that was used in such excess that I couldn't just rip the paper to unwrap it.

"What did you get him Sherlock?"

He opened his mouth and I talked over him fast, "He got me bits and bobs, just things I needed." There was no way I was going to let her know that he had decided to do something for my birthday this year and got me various 'toys' that he had learned about when he was undercover working in a sex shop last month. To get him to come with me today I had taken off three days from work so we could spend the whole time in bed so could show off his new knowledge properly. Not that I wouldn't have done it anyway had Harry not wanted to meet up.

I finally opened the present and inside it were two bottles of flavoured lubricant and a box of fifty condoms. How appropriate for my sister to buy me these.

"Um wow Harry. Err thanks." I may as well have let Sherlock tell her what he got me.

"I didn't know what to get you since we don't talk very much so I thought 'what do you need?'. Not clothes, you wouldn't wear anything I would buy you so I thought I would but something you could get a lot of enjoyment out of."

Sherlock was eyeing the bottles with interest, probably thinking about using them tonight. He picked up the box of condoms and threw them perfectly into a bin twenty meters away, "Won't be needing those."

"Wait you guys don't use protection?" Oh god, she is going to go on a huge rant.

"No is that a problem?" What a great way to be spending my birthday. My sister and my husband talking about our sex.

"Of course it is I don't want my little brother ending up with aids or something. Have you ever used condoms?"

"No."

"What the hell! Did you ever pay attention in sex-ed John?"

"Course I did. I guess I just assumed that he knew of my full medical history because his brother did and he knew that I have only slept with Sarah since I came back from Afghanistan and he probably had her history too. I was also sure he could spot even the symptomless STI's. With Sherlock I knew that he does enough tests on himself that to not know about anything would be impossible and I trusted him to tell me about it and use protection if he was infected."

"You trusted a sociopath? Wow John I am surprised you didn't shoot yourself accidently in Afghanistan, you obviously have no common sense."

"It's not funny to makes jokes about something like that Harry." Sherlock was no longer slouching and was looking at her with a look of pure hate.

"And it's not clever to talk about not using a condom when shagging my brother like it's nothing when you are an ex-drug addict which makes the chances of you having HIV very high."

"That's enough Harry."

I could feel eyes on us from every direction. Even the people inside the café had gone silent as they peered through the window for a better look at what was kicking off.

"It was great seeing you again but we will be heading off." I had to practically drag Sherlock away from the table as he was having a sneering contest with my sister. I binned the rest of the gift as soon as we turned a corner; I wasn't going to use something that would make me think of her as I was having sex. She had done enough to ruin my day as it was.

"Jooooohn." I turned my head and saw a glint in his eyes. "I need some help. There is a certain man who is wearing jeans that show off his delicious arse yet he keeps walking either next or slightly behind me."

I raised an eyebrow. "Well it's a good job that we are home and this 'man' is about to walk up the stair in front of you. He smirked, tilting his head forward so he was looking at me through his lashes. This day was definitely looking up again.

- I promote safe sex like everyone else does but somehow I don't see these guys using condoms for some reason I have no idea why-


	16. What have you done with my husband?

I heard the downstairs door slam and Sherlock attacked the stairs. He opened the door to the living room where I was sat on my laptop and swung round the door frame. "Honey I'm home"

"What have you taken?"

He looked confused for a second. "I assure you John I am clean. And your deductive skills are worse than I thought as there is nothing about me that implies I have taken drugs."

"You called me honey of course you're high."

"You are my honey. You are a healer, good at making tea, tasty, sticky at times and I would buy you if you were sold in a jar so therefore you are honey."

This made me laugh and he slightly frowned, not understanding why I found it amusing. "Great deduction. You've had a good day I presume?"

"My days are only good when they are spent with you."

I laughed again and got up to kiss the confused look off his face. "Or when you have a good case or a lovely decomposing body part from the morgue."

...

I had just finished my lunch hour and was sat at my work desk waiting for the next patient. My phone in my pocket vibrated. Oh god, Sherlock doesn't have a case so he has either destroyed something or has pissed someone off so I have to collect him like a child to get him away from them.

The text read:

They say a picture paints a thousand words but I look in your eyes and see only three.  
>SH<p>

What on earth is going on with him lately?

I feel sick.  
>JW<p>

You were perfectly fine this morning. What's happened? I told you not to eat sandwiches from the newsagents near the clinic.  
>SH<p>

I didn't. You sent me that text and I both cringed and retched at the same time. Can you stop this experiment now it's creeping me out?  
>JW<p>

Who said anything about this being an experiment?  
>SH<p>

We have been together for years and never have you used a cheesy line on me.  
>JW<p>

But what I said was true so what's the problem?  
>SH<p>

Well it would be true if those three words would be 'get my phone' or 'it went wrong' when you talk about your experiments when I come home to find something of mine destroyed.  
>JW<p>

But I do love you John.  
>SH<p>

I know and never have you resorted to such clichés to tell me that as you show me every day. I have a patient soon, BE CAREFUL!  
>JW<p>

I will spend my time missing you baby cakes. xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx  
>SH<p>

... I will have to take a look at you Sherlock, you are obviously concussed.  
>JW<p>

The only thing wrong with my body is that it isn't close to yours :'-( xxx  
>SH<p>

I can perfectly picture his smug grin that he is obviously wearing as he is spread along the sofa in his pyjamas texting. Him coming up with these texts to annoy me were providing him with a distraction so I wasn't going to complain too much, even though they didn't appeal to me.

See you later.  
>JW<p>

I am counting the time till I next get to see your face. Four hours, twenty three minutes, nine seconds. xxx  
>SH<p>

Eight. xxx  
>SH<p>

Seven. xxx  
>SH<p>

I turned my phone off and shoved it into my pocket. I was both amused and scared as to what had brought on these texts on as well as worried as to what he would say to me when I got home.

...

When I got home the flat had been, cleaned was the wrong word, sweeped. All of the furniture had been moved to one corner of the room near the sofa as well as the usual clutter, which left a large empty space in the living room. Well it was clear except for my crazy detective that was sat crossed legged on the floor surrounded by A4 pictures of my face from our wedding day and clutching the black jumper I was wearing yesterday.

"Erm hi. Am I interrupting some sort of ritual?"

"I felt the need to be surrounded by you my sweet except I couldn't because you were at work."

"You know you look like a stalker right?"

"I don't care what I look like I just wanted to feel closer to the angel whose eyes were stolen from the skies." It was like another man was sat looking up at me. Or one of his characters. "Do you have a map? Because I keep getting lost in them."

Ok... "What is going on?"

He sighed. "I was watching a random television programme where the husband would always show various romantic gestures and call his wife a series of pet names and I thought that you didn't use them on me because you wouldn't think I would like it. Naturally I decided that I would start using names like honey to see if you would follow."

"And?"

"I learned that you most likely don't use those terms because they sound stupid and clichés don't suite us. Please don't call me anything but Sherlock, I don't want you to have to odd sensation on your tongue when you say anything else."

"Can I still call you idiot?"

He smiled and his eyes glinted. "Of course. The irony of _you _calling me an idiot makes me laugh."

I returned the smile at having my normal Sherlock back. "So you will go back to talking to me in your usual, perfect way?"

"Yes my darling." he smirked and added, "I couldn't resist." when he saw me roll my eyes at him.

-I hate people using endearments and soppy talk towards me when in a relationship and I honestly can't see Sherlock or John using them with each other, it would be too out of character I think but maybe I am biased-


End file.
